


Beauty and the JJ Style

by merkitty



Series: Fairytales!!! on Ice [1]
Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fairy Tale, Beauty and the Beast AU, DJ Otabek Altin, Disney Inspired, F/M, Fairy Otabek Altin, Grimm's fairy tales inspired, Happy Ending, JJ Style, M/M, Poor Victor, Racism, Single dad Victor, Victor and Yuri are parents, Victor lost his money, Victuri, Xenophobia, fairytale
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-13
Updated: 2017-03-15
Packaged: 2018-09-24 04:47:37
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,069
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9702914
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/merkitty/pseuds/merkitty
Summary: Once upon a time, there lived a—“It’s JJ STYLE!”“I offer this diskfull of music and prose,in exchange for shelterfrom the bitter cold.”“LOL. No.”“Curse you.”-Told in the style of Fairytales! Feat. DJ & Fairy Otabek, JJ the Beast, Isabella the Beauty,  (sad)Single dad Victor, broke Victor, bratty!Nishigori triplets. While this IS Beauty and the Beast, the focus won't just be on JJ and Isabella.





	1. Prolouge: Deck the Halls(aka JJ is a brat)

**Author's Note:**

> I love Grimm's fairy tales, often even more than the "normal" version! They're very dark and creepy :3 But not creepy enough to make me hide under the bed. But I like the Disney version of Beauty and the Beast too so I'll incorporate elements from both!
> 
> Please enjoy and leave kudos! <3

Prolouge: 

**Deck the Halls: In Which JJ Is a Brat and Gets Cursed.**

 

Once upon a time, in a faraway land, there lived a—

“It’s JJ STYLE! RUN!”

—a _monster_. Currently it was terrorizing the countryside.

This monster was called the Jay Jay monster, and this is his story.

Let's leave him there and travel back.

Many years ago, on the longest night of the year, a huge blizzard raged around a little castle in the Kingdom of Canada. Heedless of the wind and weather, the royals and nobles in the castle celebrated the birthday of their only prince, Jean-Jacques of the Royal LeRoi house. Loud music played in the great hall. All was well.

Well… As well as it could be when a teenage brat thought he owned the largest country in the world.

“Sir Yakov,” the Russian’s colleague whispered urgently, “is it all right, as responsible adults, to…let the boy hang naked from the chandelier, slide from the bannisters, and distribute gold?”

“Well,” Yakov huffed, “not my business. If he dies, more land for the Russian and Yamato kingdoms.”

Indeed, Jean-Jacques of the LeRoi house did the strangest things sometimes. But the commoners seemed to like it enough, seeing as he was distributing more gold than they’d ever earn in a lifetime.

The two guests watched as the crowd settled in to hear Jean-Jacques’ story of the time he went hunting and came back with a phoenix to cook for dinner—lies, of course, since phoenixes didn’t exist, and even if they did, they couldn’t be killed. The commoners didn’t seem to care, content on staying silent and staring dreamily at the piles of gold each had collected.

Slowly, even the nobles joined in on listening, and a comfortable quiet was created as even Jean-Jacques deigned to lower his voice for dramatic purposes.

It was in this hazy lull of crackling Yuletide firewood and murmuring voices that a sharp knock sounded.

 _Rap-rap-rap._ Three efficient and polite taps against the Great Doors of the castle.

A servant looked at the Prince questioningly; clearly, he did not want to move from his place to open the door. Jean-Jacques for his part ignored the knocks and the servant, continuing with his story.

The visitor knocked again. He(or she, Yakov supposed) was ignored.

After the polite intermission of half a minute, the Visitor once more knocked urgently, five quick taps and three loud and slow ones. This time, Yakov could not stand it.

“You highness, there may be a man on his deathbed outside the castle; ought you not do something about it?” Yakov had meant for it to sound reasonably polite and civilised, but it came out as more of a growl.

Well, when a teenage boy is letting a stranger freeze in a blizzard on the longest night of the year, it’s alright to be a little forceful, if it means you can save a life. And Yakov’s words worked, because after a brief moment of hesitation, the prince gestured to the servants.

Some servants struggled to get the locks out of the way and finally opened the door just a tiny inch. Immediately, a cold blast of air snaked its way through the crowd. A head popped in through the door.

Jean-Jacques squeaked in surprise, jumping back and running behind a young maid.

“Forgive my rudeness, kind Sir,” the stranger said to Prince Jean-Jacques, “but will you be so gracious as to grant me shelter in your grand abode?”

The man’s clothes were dark and scruffy. His voice was deep and gravelly. The dagger on his hip was not polished, but red with something the crowed hoped was rust and not anything else.

Jean-Jacques peeked out from behind the maid. “Um—“ his voice came out squeakily. He cleared his throat. “P-proof of your identity, please.”

The stranger blinked slowly, as if he hadn’t thought of an answer yet. “I am but a humble traveller from the land of the Kazakhs, on a pilgrimage to find enlightenment. Though I have no documents, I hope my word is enough to sate your curiosity.”

“Oh, _that_ backwater country!” Prince Jean-Jacques exclaimed loudly, stepping forward, all traces of uncertainty gone. He had been a little fearful thinking the man was some outlaw, but he was just a stupid savage!

“Well, look here, bro,” he said slowly, “In _civilized_ Kingdoms like Canada, one must give something to get something, you see? So—”

“—I know, as Kazakhstan is also quite civilized—“ The stranger cut in.

JJ continued on as if he hadn’t heard: “I can’t possibly let you stay for free. That would cost me _money_ , you see, and money is valuable—that means one may die without it—and surely even you understand, letting your benefactor die is just _rude_!”

The Kazakh man was silent for a while. “I have little things of value, your Highness,” he said finally, “but here is my most prized procession.”

The man pulled out a CD from the depths of his pockets. “I am a musician. I offer this disk full of music and prose in exchange for shelter from the bitter cold.”

The prince snatched up the CD carelessly, giving it a cursory inspection. “Hm...” He threw it back to the Kazakh. “Sorry, but that’s not worth much. You got anything else? Something more…valuable?”

“Do not be deceived by appearances, young Prince, for true value of a thing cannot be found with such little effort. Perhaps you should listen to the CD first?”

 “No, thank you—I can already tell when it comes to stuff like this,” Jean-Jacques replied. “Maybe you can sell your kidneys,” the Prince joked. “Eh, on the other hand, don’t try; the doctors’ll think you have all kinds of _diseases_ anyhow.”

“Do you not wish to at least examine the tribute?”

Prince Jean-Jacques laughed loudly. “No.”

The stranger sighed and took off his coat, suddenly transforming into a young man in a brilliant white suit with sky blue trimming. Yakov and the other guests gasped in surprise as giant wings sprouted from his back.

“Otabek Altin,” Jean-Jacques exclaimed, eye wide in surprise and fear. “The great Enchanter of Kazakhstan! What an honour! I’m so sorry for what I said before. Why don’t we just start with dinner now eh?”

“No, thank you,” Otabek Altin replied, “I know there is no love in your heart. Spare me the formalities. Keep the CD. It will finish crumbling to powder sometime during your twenty-first year. You’d better find someone to love before then, if you don’t want to be destroyed along with it. Although, good luck with that.” Otabek gave a gentle smile to the Prince, who was frozen in place, watching himself transform in a mirror, getting more and more hideous by the moment.

“For who could ever learn to love a Monster?” With these words, the Enchanter disappeared.

He had placed a great curse on the castle and its inhabitants. Those could escape did, but the majority of them were trapped, doomed to serve the Monster Prince and his castle forever.

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Um...Was this too weird? Did you get all the references to that Christmas Carol song? Yay!


	2. Tadaima!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the children try to sell off their own father. Bad. Very bad!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Very short chapter. Should I update with really short chapters but really frequently?

\---*❤*---

Once upon a time, there lived a beautiful princess. She wasn’t really a princess though. Okay let’s just stop here and reorganize.

“Isabella, Axel, Lutz, Loop,” Victor called out the names of his four daughters, opening the rickety wooden door of their home, “I’m back!”

Isabella Nikiforov looked up from the cloth she was mending. “Welcome back, father!” She exclaimed cheerfully.

“It’s good to be back!” Victor smiled at his eldest daughter, who hugged him tightly and ran to the well outside to bring some water for him to drink.

The triplets were in a corner, whispering about the new heartthrob next door.

“Daddy,” Axel Nikiforov whined from her seat on the windowsill, “can we have cupcakes for dinner? I heard Sara Crispino does!”

“No she doesn’t,” Lutz snapped, “She has cake!”

“No way,” screamed the youngest triplet, “She has ice cream!”

The demands soon evolved into a giant, three-way shouting match between the twelve-year olds.

“Girls, girls,” Victor tried to intervene cheerfully with his heart-shaped smile, “You’re all wrong, she has broccoli! Yummy, nutritious, broccoli! Look I’ve managed to get the last one from the market! Tada!” Victor produced a huge broccoli from his paper bag.

“…"

The three girls stared at the vegetable.

“Daddy,” Loop said finally, “the thing’s half rotten. And it tastes disgusting anyways.”

“…It was cheap?”

“I’d rather eat dirt.”

 “Ah,” Victor murmured after a pause, “well, we’ll try to make it taste good okay? Daddy has to go back to work now, so be good.” He made for the door.

“But it’s not like you can even sell anything!” One of the triplets shouted.

“Today might be my lucky day!”

The last thing to be heard was Axel shouting excitedly “Daddy’s terrible at business but he’s got a pretty face! He should make up for his idiocy by selling his body! Three growing girls aren't gonna feed themselves!"

As you can see (or maybe not yet), each of the little girls is a little ~~bitch~~ insensitive as well. Though they didn't ~~want to admit~~ know it, they'd made their father very sad.

Victor and his husband used to live in a large house near the main city, right on top of a hill, surrounded by acres of woodland. Though the house was passed down from Victor’s ancestors, Victor had made sure to properly maintain and improve the already lavish manor. He replaced the small iron fences with bigger and more fashionable (“and more secure,” he assured a flustered Yuri) wrought iron fences spanning the bottom of the hill. Large wrought iron gates opened to a wide road that led straight up the hill to the front steps of their mansion, which was freshly painted in light blue.

On a cool autumn night, Victor was on a carriage going back to his mansion after a long journey overseas. He'd been tapping his foot impatiently for a long time, and eventually decided to just jump out of the carriage.

Yelling, "I'm home!" he landed and ran towards the road to his mansion. What he saw left him paralyzed.

No one knew who started it, but many suspected it to be a rival merchant in the city of St. Petersburg. What was known for sure was that one night, the house was suddenly covered by hot orange flames. The surrounding stables and trees quickly caught fire as well. Panicked servants tried to put out the fire, but it was simply too big, and they had no choice but to run.

This was the sight that met Victor as he came home.

“Sir!” one of the servants shouted.

He shook out of his reverie. “W-what happened,” he asked in a shaking voice.

The servant gasped. “We-we don’t know how—“

 “—Yuri!” Victor cut him off. “Where is Yuri?” He didn’t bother to wait for an answer, pushing the servant away and running up the hill as fast as he could.

Reaching the hilltop was hard. His lungs burned and his eyes watered. He could hardly see anything through the smoke; just felt the heat of the fire. Victor breathed and made to shout, but all that came out was a cough. He took in another shaking breath. “Yuri!”

There was no answer.

Victor tried again, louder: “YURI! Can you hear me? Where are you?”

The fires cackling wickedly. Grey smoke rising to the dark sky. The shouts of servants in the distance. And still no answer. Victor felt as though his heart had stopped.

“Victor,” Someone placed their hand on his shoulder. Victor turned around to face bright cinnamon eyes.

“Victor, you idiot, I was right there at the gates,” Yuri rebuked him.

Victor’s house had burned down, taking all the expensive textiles and vases along with it. Someone was out to get them. Victor was poorer than any other Nikiforov in generations. But for the first time, Victor cried in relief.

The following winter was harsh. Yuri and Victor had imported textiles and fabric to sell, but that was not possible anymore. The granary had also suffered, so food was in short supply. They rebuilt their house with just three rooms, much smaller than before. The two of them somehow managed to work hard enough to support their family of six. Eventually, the ice started to melt, and trees grew once more. And when spring came, Yuri disappeared.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hmm, I tried to be tragic in that innocent way Disney is. Was it successful?


End file.
